Xander’s leg throbbed and his cast was becoming increasingly itchy inside. It had only been on for five weeks now. The bruising on his torso and arms had faded to a few yellowing patches, and the stitches on the deep gash on his shoulder had been removed. His ribs still hurt a little when he used his crutches and sometimes when receiving the daily massage.
He was sitting in Anton’s study listening to the latest grievances from clans. Spike’s usual chair was vacant, however Xander was seated now rather than standing and had agreed to deputize in his Master’s absence.
They had decided to reconvene the court in the seventh week after the accident even though Spike would still be unlikely to attend. Tributes to the Master, flowers and expensive personal gifts had flowed into the house from the clans all over Europe as soon as the accident was reported. The severity of Spike’s head injury was played down and the role of Sire and Consort in his absence easily accepted, especially in light of Xander’s ever increasing reputation.
Gregor was faring well. Lacerations and bruises had quickly disappeared from the vampire, and though his severely damaged chest cavity still had some mending to do as ribs re-grew front and back, he too was up and had returned to some ‘light duties’ as PA for the Immortal. His obvious deep respect for the Consort and his reverent addressing of Xander as Master Alexander, assisted the meetings and heightened the impression that all the rumors were true and it was business as usual. (The hyperbole of rumors extending to the point where Xander had apparently single handedly pulled both occupants from the vehicle – including the impaled Gregor; fed both his Master and the Immortal’s first minion to the point of draining himself. Then dressed their wounds and carried them to the road even before the rescue vehicles arrived.)
Spike still had no speech. He tried form thoughts and say things, frowning intently and beginning to open his mouth but every time closed it again, simply letting out a random sound or whimper. And every time it happened he cried, and waves of desperation and frustration flowed through the link.
The arching and behavior which was problematic in the hospital, seemed to be getting far worse. At the beginning of the fourth week a series of full blown convulsions occurred, the arching and thrashing damaged his mending spine. It left the full time medical team with no choice but to sedate him and use a full body restraint to prevent any movement and allow his damaged backbone to begin to heal again. Unbreathing and nude but for the strategically placed sheet; his head wrapped in a bandage and both legs in plaster (his right all the way to the thigh and the left simply to the knee); and strapped tight to a frame that held him in place, he looked like a bizarre conversation piece in an art gallery.
For a full three days, every time the medication began to wear off and Spike came to, he would try to move, then whimper and cry out in pain and confusion. Too drugged and still trying to make sense of his world now, he simply could not understand the reason for his restraint. He sent such distress through the link, that by the second evening, Xander was medicated also, simply to get sleep. Anton bore the same link messages, though to a lesser extent. Both men continued to feed the mending vampire and attempted to send more specific messages through the link.
The convulsions gradually seemed to subside but at the start of week six, speech had not returned and there were serious doubts about Spike’s ability to interpret what he heard. A second set of Xrays and another MRI revealed a reduction in swelling of the cerebrum and a satisfactory knitting of his spine. He would need a brace for a time but that was of little consequence. What was more important was that now it was apparent that a small section of the damaged skull an inch or so above and behind Spike’s right ear, had failed to ‘right itself’ and could be seen continuing to compress the damaged area.
Xander and Anton were told in quiet tones, that it was the temporal zone that seemed to have suffered the most damage, and that this shard of bone was likely to be causing impeded recovery. Rather than wait for vampiric healing, which, given the severity of the injury and the depth that the shard had been driven, would be many months to several years, removal was recommended. The section of brain would be relieved and allowed to recover and the missing bone would re-grow in time. They both agreed and Spike was in the operating theatre within hours.
Spike was given a local anesthetic. Xander sat by the table and held his hand as his head was shaved… The nurses did the courtesy of clipping it all first. When one of the elderly surgical nurses saw the Consort’s look of distress as they began, she took all the long honey curls in her hand and cut as long a length as she could. Then dropped it into a small plastic pathology sample bag and silently handed it to the man. Xander’s tears of gratitude and fear tracked slowly down from his good eye.
The motherly woman patted his shoulder and leant down to whisper, “Ohh sweetie, he’s gonna be fine, I’m sure. You just look forward to him telling you off for your choice of barber.” Her wink and kind smile just made the tears flow a little faster, as he held his dear partner’s hand and prayed to any deity listening for mercy and health for his lover.
……
For several days after the operation, Xander took to lying with Spike and reading one of the many hundreds of beautiful coffee table books in Anton’s collection. Spike was still forced to be prone in bed rather than propped up, so Xander held the heavy books aloft in order that his partner might see and perhaps appreciate the photographs, while he continued to read the text until his good eye hurt, arms lost their feeling, and his throat was sore with talking.
Spike seemed to drift in and out, but sometimes apparently understood everything and tried to speak but still… just… sounds… for some reason “Gnuuu” seemed the only thing that was consistently available to him…. and… was always accompanied by tears.
It was a full two months after the accident, and the reconvening of the Court was on the following day.
Spike’s casts had been removed a week previously, and the perfectly repaired limbs revealed. His back was also, apparently returned to pre accident health. But as Xander sat reading through the proposal he and Anton were about to put to the clans, ‘happily’ propped against the headboard of their bed (and legs crossed courtesy of lack of cast now), he worried that his lovely partner might never truly return. He could feel Spike becoming stronger every day through their link… but…
The vampire had been working with the physiotherapist. A still mending back and barely knitted legs struggled, but his walking had gradually become independent. Sadly to the observer it was still painfully slow and requiring total ‘concentration’ (game face often in place). They were a little encouraged by the demon specialist Anton had engaged, as he suggested that a full physical recovery would occur in the next two to three weeks. Sadly no such timeframe was offered for the brain injury, despite Spike’s vampire status.
With the Master absent, Xander and Anton worked hard on a proposition that territories be adjusted by the rulings similar to those of the dark ages. It had been a challenging time when communities were on the move or simply dying out, when the world was in equal turmoil and change as the current time, though in most part courtesy of the black plague rather than ‘economic imperative’.
Xander quickly learned ‘with an ‘eww’ factor, the reason for the panic and broader clan agreements of the time… Apparently plague victims were virtually inedible to vampires… the equivalent of ‘sour milk’ according to the literature…. Anton volunteered that he had been in Tibet at the time.
During this ‘Dark Ages’ period, the High Master of Europe had apparently simply demanded that the clans specify their numbers and the approximate region, monitored the population for a time (*far easier now!*) and designated clan occupancy on a three year review basis. Xander read the proposal as it applied to their own context, and was somewhat concerned as it seemed to make….perfect sense.
“Who *was* this guy … this Master Benedict? Back then I mean.”
Anton answered, forgetting that his ‘coworker’ did not have his personal history to assist, “Well… you probably remember the Cardinal … Benedict the Chaste I mean. One of the favored successors to Gregory the twelfth when he was turned… Terrific thinker!... and really wonderful for the clans over the next century or so. Of course the next Pope was that idiot Martin the fifth. Slippery as they came they tell me. Not one I would have chosen… but still.”
Xander felt utterly out of his league and simply replied “ Of course… must have missed the memo… the whole…. Dark Ages… Pope thingy…”
Anton realized the Consort’s discomfort, took his hand for a moment and kissed it, then gave an apologetic smile. “Enough history lessons from your old Sire! *Our* priority is making this workable for the clans now… As you see the proposal is that they all have access to a European census database… now there will always be minor disputes but I hope that our meeting tomorrow will give the clans the parameters we need them to work by … then …”
Xander cut in by simply touching the Immortal’s arm, “It’s OK Sire, I did read the proposal, remember, and I *do* understand it. And I was there when we did the website requirements and now with that database and communications systems built in… It’s fine…. It is! I know some of these guys are older than …whoever…. But they’re just gonna have to ‘turn’ more geeks or outsource to other clans if they’ve got a problem.”
It was the first time since Christmas that Xander had seen Anton laugh out loud, and as he calmed, he pulled the human into a warm hug, “Oh my dear Alexander…. How I enjoy working with you!”
Xander winced a little as still tender ribs were squeezed, but in truth… didn’t mind.
The result of the meeting was a given. The solution was tabled in the Master’s name. The clans were stunned by the comprehensive and thorough nature of the document and supporting software. The revered Consort was present, as was the Sire, and the Master would be present at the next gathering.
The clans all departed happy.
As the last of the clan Vampires left, Xander turned to see his partner tentatively navigating the steps they had so confidently descended in the first days of their stay. He smiled and held out his arms to accept his dear lover, still tied into a back brace for another week (according to his physician) and leaning heavily on both banister and four pronged walking stick. Spike let go of everything and all but fell into the embrace, but it wasn’t that which caused his Consort’s heart to skip.
Spike pushed heavily against his partner, then finally calmed and steadied, and after several tries blurted out, far too loudly (and in a voice that simply did not seem like his own) “Blll, Pfff… Bll…. Grrrr…Hell Xan…!! Loooong… Waaaay…. Herrrreeee!! AhhhBgghhh Hmmm FFF, Bugger!”
The Consort pulled back a little as he let the real words soak in. Tears of joy were followed by copious kisses of relief and celebration from all in the room.